


Image of a man

by nobodyshome0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic John, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Androids, Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Cyborgs, Dark Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Male Character, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-11 16:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodyshome0/pseuds/nobodyshome0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Angels and Demons are sophisticated androids. Demons malfunctioned attacking humanity. Angels were created 15 years afterwards in part to help rebuild the economy and take down the demon menace. Dean Winchester is scarred by his father's alcoholism and his service in the war against the machines. In this world is it even possible that he could ever love one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The understanding is that advanced technology such as iPhone started coming into being as early as the fifties so by the modern age the technologies is advanced enough to allow androids.

 Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Supernatural world, which is trademarked by the CW, and Eric Kripke. Both Castiel and Dean are characters created and owned by Eric Kripke, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of the canon. As much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me, I have no money.

This story is not designed to be an accurate depiction of a BDSM relationship their mantra is safe, sane, and consensual and I can’t guarantee that this story will be all three at the same time. This is a fantasy, not reality.   

 

“A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting, and we would've had Max's childhood…”

***

“Apparently some philosophy guy, I can’t think of his name right now, said I think, therefore I am and that’s the rationale behind the CO equal rights movement, they have thoughts like people can so that must make them real. It’s bullshit. Back in my day we just called them robots and told them what to clean up. The PC bullshit just makes society weaker; we give the robots equal rights what’s next? Do we start asking a cow if it’s ok to eat it? A fleshlight if it’s ok to fuck it?”

 

Dean Winchester scowled, then muted the T.V. He didn’t give two shits what some random asshole said on TV, but the loud, obnoxious douche had Sam practically livid with outrage. Sam shot him a dirty look and turned the volume back on. Sammy was crashing on his couch until he got settled here in Chicago. He had taken his breakup with longtime girlfriend Jess hard, unfortunately having his baby brother crash on his couch was interrupting Dean’s own life.

Dean was getting ready for work he had already pulled on his jeans and black t-shirt with the faded letters of Singer’s scrap yard on it. While he no longer worked for Bobby the shirt was sentimental of his youth helping the old man fix broke down heaps of junk into beautiful, fast cars. At the factory, he worked in now he rarely got to fix anything as nice as a car, but it paid the bills even if he just spent all day soldering bolts on tanks.

Sammy and Jess had been engaged for four years, and he never took that last leap, not that Dean blamed him. He wasn’t keen one long term relationships himself.

On top of that Sam was wrapped in the CO movement and rather than looking for a job, an apartment or a new girlfriend, he sat on Dean’s couch all day, brooding and screaming about equal rights.

“That is bullshit!” Sam shouted emphasizing pointing to the screen as details about the upcoming press conference from G. O. D. Corp, the world’s only manufacturer of Cybernetic Organisms scrolled across the screen.

Dean ignored him and continued making breakfast. Bacon and eggs. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t care if the CO’s had thoughts or not, it didn’t matter to him, they were dangerous and they killed people. Human-like or not, he had no problem taking them out. They weren’t human after all just good at acting like it.

Not that he would let a bleeding heart like Sammy know that or that he agreed fully with the bigot on the TV. He didn’t think keeping the robots as slaves was the answer. They were monsters and monsters would always kill.

“I don’t trust them,” Dean muttered for what must have been the thousandth time since Sam took up residence on his couch.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued to watch the news.

Dean knew he wasn’t alone in his thinking. After all, it was only 1983 that the DE-mon units malfunctioned and attacked hundreds of thousands of people. His mother included. Not to mention the war that came after. Some called it the cybernetic war for independence others just called it war against the machines.

While he wasn’t alone his wasn’t the only opinion. There were three camps of thoughts when it came to the COs the first was a return to the status quo. Robots were originally designed to be workers and help with menial tasks. The closer they got to looking human the more tasks they could accomplish. Until an entire submarket of robot sex slaves existed. Reading about it in history class the few times he paid attention made his skin crawl.

The next camp was the CO equal rights, and they wanted the robots to have all the same rights as everyone else. They claimed the malfunction that caused the DE-Mons to attack was in part because of the terrible way they were treated and that they should be rehabilitated, and the other classes of CO’s be granted freedom. That the war was just a reaction to their enslavement. Then there was Dean, who figured robots should never have been made in the first place. He wasn’t advocating mass genocide, but if it came down to his life, the life of someone he loved and deactivating a robot, his answer was easy. The war had changed him and if in his spare time, even after he’d been discharged, he helped hunt down and deactivate those malfunctioning black eyed bitches that attacked his mom who could complain? He didn’t trust them either. No one knew why the DE-mon units malfunctioned. Who knew when it would happen again?

“You sound like a grumpy old man,” Sam called out over his shoulder. Dean could see the CEO of G.O.D.corp. Zachariah Fuller and older weasely faced man making his way up to the podium.

“If you are referring to Bobby then yeah I guess so.”

Sam shot him yet another sour look.

“You know if you keep that up your face will stay like that.” Dean insisted with mock seriousness. Sam turned back to the news as they press conference began.

“Real original Dean.” He muttered sarcastically

“And find a job! I can’t support your lazy ass for another month!” he shouted back as he left the apartment.

He shut the door before Sam had a chance to reply leaving him with a sweet smile on his face getting the last word. Even if it wasn’t true. Sam was the only family he had and they both knew he would let his brother stay here indefinitely if he needed too.

Dean walked over to his baby, a 1967 Chevy Impala. The only good thing his dad ever did for him was giving him this car, and he had spent years fixing her up and taking care of her she was the only lady in his life.

He slid into his car and started her up, the purr of the engine was a balm on his soul. The one machine he could stand. Dean wasn’t a Luddite, but growing up he had earned an intense mistrust for machines. He never knew what would set his dad off. One time Sam came home with an iPhone and the old man lost his shit. They spent the rest of the night barricaded in the bedroom.

The radio squawked to life with some obnoxious commercial “Several units have been selected for distribution. State of the art, first model introduced in fifteen years…”Dean turned the radio down; he would have to talk to Sam about changing the station.

As he drove to work, he thought about today. The boss said that they needed to talk to him on Monday when he left last week. It was either good news or bad.

He hoped it was good, but knowing his luck he was prepared for the worst. He’d had Sammy help him dust off his resume over the weekend. Not that there was even much on it. Dean rarely stayed in one place too long so there wasn’t a lot of stable steady jobs that he could put on there.

He just had his GED, and a give em hell attitude. He always got restless. A years there, six months there, once he packed up and moved again after two weeks. He had been here for nearly three years.

It was a habit he picked up as a kid. Hell he’d only been fifteen when he and Sammy ran away from home. He and Sammy lived on their own till Sam went to college. He was so used to moving at a moment’s notice he still kept a duffle in the bottom of his closet if shit should hit the fan. He liked his job here, but he knew if he lost it there would be another place where he could hang his hat.

Life was like that. One moment he thought he had everything under control and then everything went to shit. He pushed the memory away he didn’t want to think about her right now.

It wasn’t a long commute to work, but he liked to take the scenic route. He turned the radio back on and rocked out to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” with the windows down letting the early spring air style his hair for him.

When he pulled into work, he wasn’t quite ready to give up the freedom of the open road. The wanderlust that had haunted him for all his adult life was making him itch for a trip and not to be cooped up behind four walls. Except he had a job to do.

Purgatory Steel was a large factory surrounded by a razor wired fence. The building was made of blue corrugated metal and sported a decrepit looking little parking lot and more cameras than they needed.

They took whatever jobs they could get their hands on. Some days it would be fixing tanks getting the ready for deployment. Others would be working on scrap metal melting it down until there was enough to make some else from it. Sometimes they fixed cars for special clients. After the collapse of the economy that was what most people did but with them it was also a cover. A lot of them were hunters. They went out after rogue CO units for a price. The early models while not as sophisticated as the DE-mon units still they had their own set of glitches. G.O.D.corp wanted to make it seem as if the DE-mon models were the only one with issues, but it wasn’t the case, plus it wasn’t always their Android or Gynoid models that had problems, but they hadn’t had a case in months. More than half the country was in debt and just barely scraping by while the top percent had more money than they could wipe their ass with. Plus with a large percent of the population still fighting in the war it made things harder.

He left his denim jacket in his car and went inside. He went past the assembly line where occasionally they helped put together military mech suits for the military to his locker. He pulled on his dark blue coveralls with the purgatory company logo across the back and his name stitched in black and white letters over his heart.

“The boss wants to see you in her office.” Dean glanced up to see his buddy Benny Lafitte

He was wearing a fitted off white long sleeved shirt with the top two buttons undone showing an expanse of his throat and chest. He hadn’t shaved in over a week, and his thick stubble only served to make him look more rugged.

   Dean couldn’t help the immediate reaction to Benny’s smooth Louisianan accented voice.

He turned back to his locker and cleared his throat at the sudden roughness to his voice “Yeah thanks, man.” He called out. Not looking at him.

Hell there were worse things than wanting to bang your best friend, but it still was a bit awkward. He needed to get over this crush. With Sam living at his place for a month, he hadn’t brought anyone home during that whole time men or women.

It was getting to him. Normally he could put his crush on Benny on the back burner. Dean wasn’t interested in acting on his desire for Benny he was his friend anything else would be too complicated, but that was when he was getting a steady supply of meaningless sex.

   Lately, that well had dried up. Yeah, he could probably bring a girl home, and Sam wouldn’t object. He might raise his brow a bit, but he could probably bring a guy home also and Sammy wouldn’t say anything. While he had never really talked about him liking men with Sammy, he never guarded his gaze or tried to hide that part of himself at least not from Sammy.

Still he didn’t think it would be fair to Sam if he rubbed it in his face that he was with someone even if it was just for the night and he was alone. However, if Sam didn’t get a job soon, Dean was going to die of blue balls.

Dean slammed his locker shut and turned to go talk to the boss. On his way there he ran into Garth. A skinny little guy with dusty brown hair. Garth had more energy than his thin body could contain. He was always energetic and excited or optimistic about something.

“Did you hear the announcement?” he asked his face lit up with excitement. “Heading that way now?” Dean responded jerking his thumb towards the office letting him know he was in a hurry to talk to the boss.

Garth didn’t seem to catch the hint. “No not about that.” He asserted waving his hand dismissively towards the office.

“About the CO’s.” He continued. Dean grimaced he didn’t want to talk to Garth about this considering his girlfriend was a L-upus CO’s who adopted the name Bess. He was one of the few people here in purgatory just for their mechanical experience and not for anything else.

 

“Kind of in a hurry here Garth.” Dean snapped his patience was waning.

   The man pouted. The full grown man in front of him looked up at him like a pouty two-year-old who didn’t get a piece of cake.

Dean sighed heavily not caring that Garth heard the annoyance in his tone he continued.

“What is it Garth?” He asked waiting for the man to continue. “They introduced a new model today!” he insisted excitedly.

“You’re gonna have to slow it down a bit Garth I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered bored raising his hands up in appeal.

“G.O.D.corp they released a new class of CO’s” Garth excitedly said as if it was the most interesting gossip he had ever heard.

“Winchester!” the boss insisted sticking her head out of her office door. Saving Dean from having to respond to Garth he just nodded to Garth and trudged the rest of the few feet till he reached her office.

Ellen Harvelle, was a no-nonsense lady that was as tough of nails, with a spine of steel. She didn’t back down from a fight, but she wasn’t unnecessarily cruel. Dean liked her and even though for a while there she was almost his mother in law she didn’t let that get in the way of their working relationship. She didn’t treat him any different than she did any other employee. If there was a bit of a soft spot towards him there at all, she didn’t show it. Ellen was strong

She took over running both the bar and Purgatory when her husband was killed by DE-mons, so there was no love lost between her and the CO’s that was why the request sounded even crazier coming from her.

“What the Hell Ellen?” he demanded wanting her to say it again just to be sure he heard he right.

Rather than repeat herself she hardened her expression and scowled

“It’s a promotion Dean I didn’t think you would take it like this” she insisted ice flowing into her words.

“Bullshit you knew exactly how I’d take it!” he shouted jumping up from his chair.

Running his hands through his hair in agitation. Thinking over her request. G.O.D.corp was giving them one of their new versions of their Cybernetic Organisms in a show of good faith that humans and androids could work well together. Their goal was the promotion of their product in a commercial setting. They were also offering Ellen a shit tone of cash to go along with this. It was no secret that she hated CO’s the roadhouse was an exclusively human bar. It was good for business if a known CO objector was working side by side with this new model.

She had asked him to take charge of the CO and act as its manager and overseer. The newer CO’s required a handler to act as the supervisor since it had the ability to learn, but its free will was limited by its handler’s commands in an effort to keep control. It was an effort to fix the mistakes of their previous model and “its violent outburst” as they called it.

“Is this promotion mandatory?” he wondered.

She glared at him leaning heavily on her desk. With a deep resigned sigh she continued

“You’re the only one I trust to keep an eye on it.” She finally continued “Can you imagine if Garth was in charge of it?” she asked incredulously.

Dean didn’t want to think about it.

“You don’t have to accept it.” Dean pointed out “Those unnatural bastards can’t be trusted.” He added. A fact both he and Ellen knew well.

“If I want to keep the business I do.” She answered simply she didn’t offer any further explanation. Dean didn’t ask. He knew that business had been suffering for a while. They had fewer and fewer legitimate customers for Ellen for launder the money through for their less legitimate side business

“They are offering me an ungodly amount of money.” She rationalized. “For six months of work.”

Dean felt a hard pit in the bottom of his stomach. He wanted nothing to do with this, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Ellen losing the business because he couldn’t suck it up.

He nodded clenching his teeth on the denial that he wanted to scream. He would do it, but that didn’t mean he needed to spend any more time with it than he had to. It was a tool. The same level as a forklift or a wrench.

   “It will be here later today. I will need you to start training it immediately. Apparently it has some basic training but it knows nothing about our industry.” Dean scowled, he wasn’t sure what she meant but nodded just the same.

He went to work and tried not to think about the impending delivery of the CO.

Today was a simple day, but because of their unwanted guest Dean wanted to take care of some undesirable garbage before it arrived. Moving the barrels of assorted robot parts to the iron smelt.

While it wasn’t illegal to deactivate COs, it wasn’t exactly legal either. Wordlessly Benny came up beside him and help him load up the forklift and dump everything in the heat of the furnace. That was what he didn’t want to mess up with Benny; they had this unspoken communication. They worked well together. They both served in the war and knew what it was like to come home and have everything be the same, but so different.

It was maybe noon when the box came in. It was a strange looking thing like a shiny silver coffin. This side up with an arrow let them know how to move it, and the word Ångel was printed along one side with G.O.D.corp along the other.

Garth was practically atwitter with the idea of seeing one of the most recent models of CO Dean was resigned. This was going to end badly no matter how they sliced it. If the companies promotion worked, that would mean more CO’s returning to flood the workplace with free labor and that meant people like him and Benny were out of a job. There wasn’t much for someone without a college education or stability. Worse if the promotion failed, that would mean that the robots were still a few bolts short and malfunctioned somehow.

   The world was still picking up the pieces of the economy after the failure of the DE-mon units. The world went from a surplus of free labor to a deficit and then with the war even less.

This was a dangerous game G. O. D. crop was playing, in more ways than one.

They pried open the shiny silver box with a crowbar. It should have creepy. The thing laying there in the box looking dead or maybe just asleep. Dean half expected it to wake up screaming shocked to find everyone there staring at it. The version they sent was an android. It was laying on its back; arms folded in an x over its chest. It wore a white dress shirt buttoned up at the wrists and buttoned up fully to the top button at the collar. It wore a blue tie with a black jacket and slacks. It looked remarkably human as much if not more than the DE-mon versions. It had brown hair and even a bit of stubble along its jaw. It was actually disturbingly attractive.

“How do we turn him on?” Garth asked unsurely.

A crowd of people had gathered around to watch the unboxing of this strange new robot. A lot of them were like Garth, excited and curious, but a lot of them had fought in the war. Ellen offered a sanctuary for those who had returned, and there was a lot of barely disguised malice. Dean was right there with them.

Dean bent down pick up the pamphlet that was clutched in one of its hands.

The only thing inside the pamphlet was a phrase and a name.

Speak his name and he will rise and await instructions.

<Castiel>

“Castiel? What kind of name is that for a robot?” he muttered to himself and nearly yelped in surprise as the robot opened its startlingly blue eyes and sat up.

“Hello,” It said to him cocking its head slightly to the side studying him. Dean tried to slow his racing heart. Its voice sounded so human, much more so than any of the other units it was gravely but rich with a natural cadence.

It's eyes where an opulent electric blue while just as inhuman as the DE-mon unit’s black eyes the intense blue paired with its handsome face was somehow beautiful.

Dean was surprised by the whimsicality of his thoughts. Never one to wax poetically about any of the people he slept with it was weird that he found himself capable of describing a thing as beautiful. It was just another bot. If it came to it, he could take it out just like the rest of them. It wasn’t anything that he couldn’t handle.

“Who are you?” Dean found himself asking

“I am Castiel,” Dean frowned, confused by the robots understanding of self. “I mean what are you?”

“I am an Ångel unit of the L.O.R.D Division of G. O. D. Corp. My class designation is S.E.R.A.P.H. My unit designation is Castiel.”

Dean wasn’t sure what all of that meant, and he really didn’t care he just wanted to put the damn thing to work so he could ignore how attractive its mouth was. He was sounding like a one of the Technosexual guys on TV and he didn’t like it.

The robot was examining everyone crowded around it carefully, obviously searching for something.

“Who is designated as this unit's master.” The word sounded so strangely sexual in this situation. It surprised him. Was expecting something else entirely, maybe overseer or manager. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone else took exception to the word. Everyone's eyes were on him waiting to see how he would react. By now the word had gotten around that he was the one promoted to deal with the CO’s everyone was waiting to make a move. He was just hoping no one could tell that his dick was getting hard. There was something about the way the robot said the word. It didn’t make him think about orders for work. It made him think of chains and ball gags.

“I…” Dean began, and his voice was thick, so he cleared his throat, hoping the thickness could be interpreted as repressed rage.

“I guess that would be me.” He replied. The robot’s crystal blue gaze swung to him.

 

Castiel began the scanning process that encoded this human as his master. He would use his commands as a basis for future action and while every action he performed did not necessitate a direct verbal command on the part of his master. He would not be allowed to perform certain actions forbidden by this human. Additionally, any direct verbal commands would be obeyed. Once a command was made the only ways he could ignore the command was if his master   rescinded the order, or it was completed.

He recognized the human from the employee records that were given as part of his training.

“Dean Winchester.” He confirmed and the human flinched at the sound of his name. Castiel frowned. In his initial training, he had been told that humans placed great importance on their individual designations and that it was important that he correctly designate them. As a form of camaraderie, he too was given an individual designation as were the rest of his brethren. Castiel held out his hand. Hesitantly the human clasped hands with him. The tiny biomarkers imbedded under the skin of his hands noted an elevated stress level in the other man. Although Castiel would not be able to tell if this was the humans normally reaction to different situations or an unusual spike in stress until he created an accurate baseline.

Its hand was warm, the robot’s hand felt just like another human hand. It was disturbingly soft and hot. The DE-mons’ units, hand soft human like flesh, but it had no warmth to it like lifeless skin.

“I am ready to begin my training.”

 


	2. 2

Dean didn’t really know what to say to the robot, but he took note of who’s ass he would need to kick later as he heard a few men snicker at the robot’s words.

None of the men here at the knew he was Bi but still his heart raced at the perceived innuendo worried that they somehow knew. He wasn’t ashamed he always enjoyed himself and he never felt any shame sharing his body and pleasure with anyone but it wasn’t a part of himself that he shared with a lot of people. Not after that time in seventh grade when his dad broke his arm for kissing his math tutor.

His dad had never exactly been even tempered, but that had shot him over the edge. No son of his was going to be a fucking faggot, his words, he then proceeded the beat the shit out of him.

The next day he apologized saying he must of made a mistake jumped to conclusions. Obviously the other boy kissed Dean and he just hadn’t pushed him off yet. Needless to say they switched schools again quickly after that.

They tended to switch schools a lot growing up. At first Dean thought it was because his alcoholic father couldn’t hold down a decent job. Then after a while he figured it was so the state wouldn’t notice the bruises on him and his brother and take them away. While Dean never could figure out if the old man loved them as much as he hated them or the other way around John Winchester wasn’t going to let anyone take his boys away from him.

Still, they managed to escape him eventually and it was ancient history, but Dean never really got over it.

The robot was giving him a wide eyed quizzical stare trying to figure out what he was supposed to do likely.

“Yeah, alright.” Dean agreed finally remembering the robot’s statement.

He had no idea what the bucket of bolts meant by training, but he figured for his own sanity, it was better without an audience.

“Get back to work,” Dean ordered. His promotion technically made him all of their bosses.

The disgruntled men scowled but did as he said, except Benny.

Dean was fine with than Benny’s wariness had served him well in the past. Benny had pulled his bacon out of the fire more times than he could count. He owed him a little look see at the new enemy.

Castiel watched the two remaining men. They were obviously experienced with each other. His master Dean and the other human traded glances before nodding in understanding. Castiel pulled up his employee file. Benny Lafitte ex-soldier. The shared look was explained by their shared military service.

While not human Castiel was equipped with several different references on human psychology and the closeness brought on by sharing combat.

This also explained their tense wariness of him. In his pre-programmed training, he was informed that many ex-soldiers would find his kind troubling since they were similar to their enemy.

His training in this situation was to endeavor to put the men at ease.

“I am authorized to answer any question my master has, regarding my functions, makeup and applications.” He informed them.

Dean shot Benny another look that Castiel was not able to process. His facial recognition software had not yet been calibrated towards either man, and while he had months of training in human facial expressions the Ångel model was only able to achieve an 89.98 success rate in gaguing human emotion.

Dean wasn’t sure what the robot was getting at. It was standing there stock still its hands resting casually at its sides yet still seeming to stand at attention. The unnatural stiffness was most likely just a reminder of its origins.

Dean rotated his neck and shook out his arms thinking, trying to ease the sudden stiffness in his neck and shoulders. Somehow it felt like he was playing right into its hands, but he didn’t really see the harm in knowing more about it.

“Ok,” he finally began giving the thing a once over. He asked the first question that popped into his mind. “How come you’re warm.”

“Thermogenesis,” the robot replied.

“What?” Dean asked, confused. “The process of heat regulation within a being.” The robot explained.

Dean couldn’t decide if it was being extremely literal or weirdly sarcastic. He assumed the former.

“Why does your skin feel human?” he asked trying again. The robot cocked its head to the side, studying him as if he was some lower organism. “Because it is.” It replied.

A sickening feeling went through him. “So you skinned some poor bastard?” Dean asked aghast. He could see Benny stiffening next to him ready to ward off attack.

A look almost like alarm crossed the robot’s face.

“No, I am incapable of harming a human, the skin was designed in a laboratory. It is a synthetic human skin, grown by the use of stem cells using a scaffold of carbon nanotubes upon which human stem cells can be grown into a variety of tissues.”

“So are you a Cyborg?” Dean demanded.

“No, I am an Android. A Cyborg is a living being augmented by mechanical components. I am a mechanical being augmented by living components.”

“So how is this different from the DE-mons?” Benny asked Dean waited for the robot to respond. After several moments he realized it wouldn’t answer Benny’s question so he repeated it.

“The DE-mon units were designed with a Cybernetic skin, a flexible electronic skin that contained an array of magnetoresistive sensor foils which sensed both static and dynamic magnetic fields overlaid with an artificially hardened thermal plastic elastomer a close emulation of real skin. The Cyberntic skin was made from ingredients on FDA approved lists and it did not contain phthalates, polyvinyl chloride (PVC), heavy metals or latex”

Dean was sure he read some of that in history class, but he didn’t really care about the specifics other than if he shot or stabbed it did it die.

“ So you don’t have their tolerance for bullets?” Dean wondered thinking about the war. The DE-mons didn’t go down just because you filled them full of lead. If it managed to puncture the skin, it still didn’t guarantee that it would deactivate. The metal skeleton kept going sometimes even if that was the only thing left. If this thing was easier to gank all the better.

“No, I have a greater resistance.” It assured.

Dean frowned. “ How?” “While my skin is essentially human and can bruise and become damaged, my rate of healing has been genetically increased. Additionally, I have been coated with a high performance laminate that has been nano-infused with artificial spider silk. The nano particles become rigid enough to protect when the kinetic energy threshold is surpassed. While I possess an identical endoskeleton actuated by a powerful network of hydraulic servomechanisms as my predecessors, I also have an amalgam of an endocrine and a circulatory system that enables me to maintain my organic elements.”

To Dean the machine’s words were complete and utter gibberish it might as well have been speaking Latin. Dean thought of the war. The DE-mons didn’t feel like humans, but they looked it and sounded like it. While he wasn’t squeamish and had deactivated more than his fair share of them. The images and the sounds never really left him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t deal with it. It was just that his way of dealing involved several fingers of scotch.

Castiel could tell by the puzzled expression on the human’s faces that some of his explanations only served to further confuse them. So he chose to demonstrate.

Dean froze as the robot reached for his hand again. Its skin certainly felt real as Dean clasped it. The robot rotated its hand, palm up letting his own hand slide over its wrist. Surprisingly, he felt a pulse point there just as he would with a human. It was then when he noticed that the robot was actually breathing. Dean wasn’t sure if it needed the oxygen or if it was just for show. What he did know was that this made the robot ten times more dangerous than its predecessors.

It was human camouflage. Nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. Hell, if he ran into it in a bar there was no telling if he would have recognized it for what it really was. Somehow this unnerved him more than anything else. He could feel the dread rise. After he got back, he never was able to shake the feelings he got before battle. The sense of an impending attack. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Humans were winning the war against the machines and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the machines made their next move. It didn’t matter that he’d been discharged and wasn’t in the army anymore he was still fighting. The fucking shrinks called it PTSD, hell, maybe they were right. He’d seen his fair share of awful shit in the war and before. When he got back rather than get celebrated for fighting for his country his whole god damned species, he got spat at. They called him a murderer. While he was off fighting the CO movement took off. They called him the monster. He didn’t know anymore. Back there in the thick of it, he knew what side he was on. He knew what it was like during the war. It was pure there. Everything was black and white kill or be killed. There were enemies and allies, but you could never be entirely sure how long your allies would last.

   The knot was always there in the pit of his stomach even after the war. It wasn’t killing the machines. It wasn’t his conscience that kept him up at night. It was the people he couldn’t save. He normally covered it with booze and casual sex. This thing was designed to seem human and that somehow felt wrong.

“Tell me your primary mission.” Dean ordered.

Castiel could sense a shift in the human’s approach to him. Before his approach seemed to be simple curiosity now judging by his defensive stance and hardened gaze. The human saw him as a threat. While he was incapable of deceiving his master or not answering his questions he was able to proceed in a vague manner.

“Obeying the commands of my master.” He answered. While not his only goal it was indeed his primary programming.

“So if I told you to kill human could you obey?” Dean asked watching him intently.

“Negative, I am incapable of harming humans.” He reiterated his previous assertion. Knowing that the human needed to hear it.

“What about any other commands?”

“I am bound by any other commands, whether they take place in a work or private environment.”

“Like what?” Dean snapped. He knew he was over reacting but his heart was in overdrive.

“Anything you desire.”

Dean wasn’t sure what the tiny thrill that raced through him meant. It did however create more questions than answers. Hell, he couldn’t decide if his racing heart was the damned PTSD or something else.

Under different circumstances the idea of having someone willingly volunteer to obey all of his commands was oddly exciting, but coming from a robot it made him feel sick. It was the enemy. It made him angry. Angry at the robot, angry at Sam for being the reason he waited so long hell angry at his dick for clouding his judgement.

This entire situation was more than he could handle he just wanted the damn machine to go away. Obviously he just needed to get laid. His hormones were on edge that was why he found the robot attractive and was having trouble not thinking about what Benny looked like in the shower or about the blood soaked battlefield where he left his peace behind.

“Enough twenty questions we need to get back to work.” Dean nearly growled frustrated. He shot Benny a glance who nodded, but there was a worried expression on his face. Obviously he was slipping if Benny could see through the cracks.

Dean strode quickly out of the room at the moment he didn’t give a damn that the robot wasn’t following him.

If it was to be believed which was a big if really it couldn’t hurt anyone, but right now he didn’t really care.

He really wanted a drink and maybe a cigarette, a nasty habit he picked up in the army.

Not really caring about the repercussion he pushed his way out the fire door. The alarms sounded as he climbed out onto the fire escape. He leaned as casually as he could against the railing. Cigarette in hand, curling his hand around the keep the wind from snuffing his light, he lit it clumsily with shaking hands He was not sure why this situation with the robot had him so shaken up. After few moments the alarms stopped but he didn’t care.

He didn’t know what bothered him if it was the memories of the war that caused anxiety to thrum inside him or if it was the thought that attraction to men would be discovered. He thought that he got over the shit his dad put him years ago. The shame that swirled in his gut only served to further piss him off. The robot was too human. It didn’t look like the enemy and that scared him. He had been out of the army for maybe four years now and every night he woke up soaked in sweat.Dreaming of the men who weren’t really real that he killed and now they looked even more like humans. The DE-mon units bled, but not like humans, it was all surface and the texture wasn’t right, it was thinner and flowed more like water than blood. Sometimes during the war, it felt like he was bathing in it. It was everywhere. Sometimes it felt like constant combat. He knew it was just the robot that was bringing back the anxiety of the war. He loved having his brother here. He truly did, but it brought back all the betrayal he felt, towards him. Cliff notes version of the last seven years. Dean went to purgatory, Sam hit a dog. He knew it wasn’t fair to his brother to be angry at him for not joining up. Hell, he wasn’t really even angry that Sammy was part of the CO movement. He was his brother, but it was hard. They never talked about his time in the war. Sammy never asked and Dean never volunteered.

Dean enlisted the day Sammy got his Stanford acceptance letter. Served his first term and signed on for a second and had just begun his second when he was discharged. It just took him a year to notice. Officially his discharge was honorable, he had been involuntarily discharged due to a Reduction in Force. He’d been fired from the goddamned military. Honestly, it might have been funny, but living it first hand it wasn’t. Before he got his discharge papers he Benny and a couple other guys from their unit had been fucking around picking off stragglers around the outer perimeter of the demilitarized zone when they were ambushed. Technically, he was MIA for ten months, but since he was no longer in the military he was just a civilian casualty. He thought of her. A weird pain seized his heart. He pushed it away. He wouldn’t think about that. Not now. If he was being honest, not ever. He took a drag on his cigarette only to realize that he burnt through it while he had been lost in thought. Pissed that he wasted it, he angrily lit up another taking calming drag. Leaning back on the railing, he breathed in the heavenly nicotine his head lolled back, eyes closed as he thought, Maybe Ellen wouldn’t give him too much shit if he took a sick day. He was almost back to his causal level of disinterest when he heard the footsteps.

 

Castiel watched the human leave perplexed. While his sensors were not fully calibrated he knew that his human was experiencing a raised level of anxiety.

His eyes swung to the second human Benny Lafitte.

“Explain.” He ordered him. He was programed to be civil to all humans, but his priority was his human.

The man simply chuckled to himself. “ You done pissed him off.” He muttered to himself shaking his head. “ You have no idea what holy hell you have unleashed on yourself robot.”

He said still laughing and shaking his head. “Android.” Castiel answered absently. The man shrugged as if they meant the same thing to him. Castiel made a note to further evaluate this human’s mental stability.

For the moment he needed to find his human. While he was fine with not immediately initiating work there were still details that were required.

The human was not hard to locate. He leaned idly back against the railing with his eyes closed. He would be considered classically handsome by humans. With a straight jaw dusted with a growth of blonde whiskers, hard eyes, and yet paradoxically soft looking lips. Cigarette in hand the smoke curling around him. Castiel studied the human. There was something ineffable about him. A sublime fearful symmetry, he was a predator. He was rugged with lines of lean muscle and yet his records indicated that he was his younger brother’s primary caregiver as a child. His records did not contain the reason for his discharge, but there was no discernable medical condition that he could see from a visual examination.

“If you don’t have scotch I don’t care who the fuck you are, you’re dead to me.”

“Technically I was never alive.” Castiel replied. Dean stiffened opened his eyes. The emotion there was easy to read. Rage. Then apathy. The human hated him and part of Castiel regretted whatever he had done to cause that emotion.

“You have to do whatever I say, right?” he asked listlessly, leaning back, apparently ignoring his presence.

“Yes.” He responded, still studying his human. He seemed to have settled. His pulse was returning to a more natural rhythm. He was lazily taking drags on his cigarette as he spoke.

“There is a bottle of scotch in my locker, bring me a glass.” He ordered. Castiel turned to leave. “On second thought bring me the bottle.”

Castiel hesitated, he wasn’t an automaton not in the strictest sense. Where he was bound by only a pre programed set of instructions. He wasn’t human, but he was an artificial intelligence. A synthetic life form that was self-aware, sapient, sentient, and anatomically fully functional his only limitations were set by the human in front of him and the primary programing towards harming humans.

While enabling an alcoholic was not within his parameters of present no harm to humans, he was uncomfortable with the notion. However, direct commands could not be ignored, unless they posed an immediate danger to a human. Secondarily, if a command posed a threat to himself and if disregarding the command did not directly break the first rule of harming no human then he could disobey.

He easily located the locker room from the blueprints provided as his reference material. It took a few more moments to discern which locked hollow was Dean’s locker. Opening the lock took two minutes before he was able to try every combination. The bottle held only a quarter of its original volume. A small empty glass cup rested next to it. Castiel grabbed both before returning to his master.

Dean downed the first gulp not really caring that the robot was still staring at him expectantly.

“What?” he asked feeling the comforting numbness wrap over him. He leaned into it like a warm cloak.

“There are details I must finalize.” It responded. It sounded almost sorry. “And you need me to help you?” he guessed he thought about lighting another cigarette, but thought better of it, they cost to much as it was and he was already reaching his limit. He had cut down to a quarter of a pack a day since Sammy was here he was trying to quit, but there was only so much he was capable of and so far that wasn’t one of them. Instead, he just poured himself the rest of the scotch.

“Ok, shoot.”

“ I will need time alone with you to finish my bio-calibrations.”

Dean was not looking forward to that, but he knew that was what was required. It came with the packet Ellen gave him when he agreed to take this farce of a job. The Ångel model required a bio-lock on its master to assure that only their orders would be carried out.

“Yeah, whatever.” He agreed to keep the dog and pony show on the road.

“Also, I require training.” Dean really didn’t want to get into what that meant right now so rather than unpack all the connotations he just nodded rolling is hand gesturing for it to continue.

“I need lodgings.” It informed him. “Find a cozy box in the corner and power down for the night.” Dean responded flippantly. Sipping on his drink.

A look almost like hurt crossed the machine’s face.

“That is insufficient, I require adequate shelter, a place to sleep and food to enable my organic components.”

This surprised Dean. He just sort of assumed that the robot just bent over at night and plugged itself up to an electrical outlet.

“What’s going on here?” Ellen asked, pushing her way through the door. She shot him a dirty look pointing out the scotch with an inquisitive brow. “It’s medicinal.” He insisted. “ Medicinal my ass.” She muttered to herself, but didn’t chastise him further.

“Looks like you’re getting a roommate.” Dean murmured talking to Ellen she raised a brow at him in disbelief

“Honey, if you think that thing is coming home with me, you’re stupider than you look. You know the roadhouse as a strict humans only policy.”

“It needs shelter.” Dean protested. She made him in charge of it, but now she wasn’t letting him do his job.

He wasn’t sure where else to put the thing up at,but he didn’t like the way Ellen was lookng a him.

“From what I recall in your application you have your own place.” Ellen stated leadingly “Oh no its not coming home with me either besides I’ve already got my brother crashing on my couch I don’t need a robot there too.”

“I seem to recall your brother being a staunch CO supporter, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing his space with it.”

A twinge of something with through him at the reminder that his brother probably would be bosom buddies with his enemy.

She looked at the robot then back at him. “ Looks like you’re getting a roommate.” Dean knew there was a stunned expression on his face but he couldn’t change it.

“I hope you know how to cook, he likes bacon.” She laughed talking to the robot it too seemed stunned.

Dean just clenched his teeth and kept his mouth shut, he owed Ellen for more than just giving him a job. He owed her for what happened to Jo,

“Great.” He muttered bitterly. Sam was gonna have a field day. He downed the rest of his drink. He was pleasantly warm. Ellen was frowning at him.

“How many of those have you had?” she demanded, “One,Three,” Dean and the robot replied together. Dean glared at the machine. “Now you answer other people.” he complained glaring at it. It didn’t look ashamed in the slightest. If anything, it looked vaguely self-satisfied.

Ellen shook her head “Go home Dean, and don’t bother coming back till you’re sober.” Dean grinned good-naturedly “See you tomorrow Ellen.” She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t add anything. She knew what kind of situation she was putting him and was willing to give him some leeway. There wasn’t a lot of people that he was close to but Ellen was basically family and as much as he didn’t want this complication in his life he owed her that much.

He glanced over at the robot who was admittedly looking a little lost. “Looks likes you’re bunking with me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my inspiration for Dean's personality is a bit future Dean from season four and a bit Demon Dean from season 10


End file.
